


black gold

by fridgefish



Series: cowboy au [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: AU typical violence, Cowboy AU, Happy Ending, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Yes you read that right, lovers to strangers to partners in crime to lovers again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-05 21:34:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19048861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fridgefish/pseuds/fridgefish
Summary: Chris turned to try to quietly return to his seat, but Torey caught him by the shoulder. “I know it’s been a while,” he began, and God, Chris knew where this was going, “but you don’t happen to know where Charlie Coyle might be these days?”





	black gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cjmasim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjmasim/gifts).



> for K, happy birthday to a true friend, sealed with frog teddies and everything. you are a joy and a light and a potion seller.
> 
> this one also goes out to all my lesbian friends i love each and every one of u
> 
> this fic contains a lot of au typical violence- people get shot and stabbed and stuff, but nothing is graphically described.
> 
> also I have nothing against the flyers! they've just got a great name 
> 
> hope you enjoy!

“Quiet! Quiet, everyone, please,” Torey shouted over the clamoring crowd, his sheriff's badge glinting in the dusty beams of light that were streaming in through the windows of the church. “Everyone is going to be heard. Please, take your seats.”

Chris was sitting on the front pew, desperate to hear what the decision would be. 

“I’m not gonna take it anymore,” Noel said, springing from his seat a few rows behind him. He was sporting a rather nasty scar down his face that looked fairly fresh. “The shares of the crops they were demanding was ridiculous. If we wouldn’t have starved, we certainly wouldn’t have had enough food left to sell to make any kind of money. So I told ‘em no. Then I come back home from town one day to find all my fields up in flames, my girls all hiding in the house, scared to death. So I want to know what the hell you plan to do about this.”

Torey nodded. “I understand. We’re all going through it. But the-”

“They’re not gonna stop until they run us out of town,” Noel continued, enraged, “We’ve got to do something.” A few others stood up in agreement. 

“Listen,” Torey said, trying to de-escalate the situation. “I know that’s tough. But we are going to work together as a community. Hopefully that will be the last incident, and we can-”

“Sheriff,” came a booming voice from the back. “You’re young. You have a lot to learn. But we can’t let this slide.” Chara declared, towering over the rest of the frightened bunch. 

“This isn’t that easy, Zee.” Chara visibly bristled at the moniker. “They’ve got more men in that gang than we have people in this entire settlement. Sharpshooters like you haven’t seen. To try to start something with them is not only suicidal- it’d be exactly what they want. There’s nothing of value on this land though- our hope is that they’ll lose interest and move on.” Torey said definitively. 

Chris nodded, hoping the crowd would be pleased with Torey’s decision. He hadn’t been the sheriff for very long, but he was wise. The people who’d come to the town meeting started murmuring amongst themselves, the men putting their hats back on and the women tying their bonnets, preparing to head back home before night fell, when the back doors burst open. 

_“Sheriff!”_

Chris whipped around, hand on his hip along with half the men in the crowd. It was his neighbor John Moore who was stumbling inside with wild eyes. He’d lost his hat, and heavy in his arms was the limp body of his young farm hand. His name was Ryan, if Chris remembered correctly. He’d come over one evening a couple weeks ago, when John had a full flask to share, and the three of them had had supper together. 

John passed by Chris and he caught a glimpse of his face. Ryan’s cheeks were burnt red from working in the sun all day, and it gave his lifeless body the appearance of just being asleep. 

He didn’t stop until he reached the front of the church, kneeling before the altar rail and laying Ryan’s body at the front for all to see. A woman wailed- Chris saw Patrice pull his wife close to his side, shielding her eyes. 

When John moved away from the body, his cause of death became clear- an arrow had struck him in the chest. 

“I went out to see what was taking Ryan so long to come in for his meal. Couldn’t find him so I-” John swallowed. “My wife found him before I did, God have mercy.” 

Chris tucked his hat to his chest. 

“They got him- I’m pretty sure I saw.” John said, barely loud enough to hear, even in the silent church. “The one they call Ghost.”

He thrust a piece of parchment that had a torn puncture into Torey’s chest. “There was a note on the arrow.” 

Torey unfolded the note and read it in silence. 

“Well?” called a voice from just behind Chris. “What does it say?”

He cleared his throat. “It’s a warning.” 

Someone’s baby began fussing.

“It says we have ten days to clear off this land, before we can expect to see all our children look like this boy.” he finished, folding the paper back up and slipping it into the front pocket of his vest. 

Chris couldn’t do anything but look at Ryan, whose eyes were half open but unseeing, looking back into the sanctuary that had been shocked into silence. 

It was indecent.

He was the first to move after Torey had finished reading the message, pulling off his outer flannel shirt and walking up to where Ryan’s body lay. Chris reached down and draped it over his face. 

“Thanks Chris,” Torey said under his breath. 

Something about covering Ryan up broke the trance that was over the crowd. Noel stood up first again. 

“I won’t let it happen!” He shouted. “I’ll fight. We can take them.” The voices of the town became pandemonium- screams to take up arms, cries to just go ahead and start packing because there was _no way in hell that-_

“Hey!” Torey shouted, struggling to regain control. “Let’s be smart about this.” 

Chris turned to try to quietly return to his seat, but Torey caught him by the shoulder. “I know it’s been a while,” he began, and God, Chris knew where this was going, “but you don’t happen to know where Charlie Coyle might be these days?”

__________

Chris hadn’t been inside a saloon for years now, since the last time he was with Charlie. He’d moved out further into the frontier, made an honest living farming corn and potatoes, tried to forget about all the lives he’d already lived.

He was only 27. He was never sure if he was too young or too old to feel the way he did. As he pushed the swinging wooden saloon door open and squinted against the dim haze inside, eyes smarting from the sun, there wasn’t any time to ponder the past.

This was the part Chris was good at. Charlie had always been predictable. 

“You seen a guy by the name of Charlie Coyle around here?” he asked the bartender. There was no reason to make nice. 

The bartender didn’t even pause from wiping down the counter, he simply jerked his head towards a table in the back and- yeah, Chris knew that hat. Knew that silhouette. He was the same Charlie as he’d left four years ago- from the back, it seemed, anyway. The leather of his hat was sun-bleached a lighter brown. His kerchief was different, a cornflower blue instead of the red one Chris had given him that first harvest together, when Charlie didn’t have a thing to his name but the revolver his father left him. His curls were longer now, peeking out from under the brim of his hat, and his shoulders were certainly more broad. Still Charlie through and through, though. He would’ve recognized him anywhere.

“Coyle, I’ve been looking for you,” Chris began in what he hoped was a non-confrontational tone.

Charlie put a hand on his hip anyway, and didn’t bother to turn around.  
“Congratulations. So’s half the bastards in the territory. Now what do you want?”

The table next to them had quietly paused their card game, waiting expectantly to see what would happen next. 

“I got a job for you.” 

He took his hand off his pistol and moved it back to his drink. “I’m retired.” 

“It pays well.” Chris tried again. He tried to swallow his disappointment that Charlie didn’t even recognize his voice. It had been a very long time. “Fifty dollars.” 

Charlie choked on his drink. “I wouldn’t work a job for that little, are you joking?” he sputtered.

“What about for an old friend?” Chris said, and there. Charlie finally turned around. 

His face was suddenly awash with joy and he jumped up from his seat. “Wags, you son of a bitch!” Charlie grabbed him up in a hug for a moment before realizing himself. “Come on, let’s take this outside.”  
The table next to them went back to their cards, disappointed that they didn’t get to witness Coyle destroy a man. 

Seeing Charlie again after so long was a shock. All he could think about was that he smelled like expensive tobacco now, and he’d never known him to smoke before. As if Charlie could read his thoughts, as soon as they reached the front porch of the saloon, he pulled out a cigar from the inside of his vest. 

“I tell you, Charlie, I wanted to write, but I never could find an address.” Chris said, watching Charlie’s face flicker orange from the lighter. It was all he would let himself say- too proud to admit how much he’d missed him. 

“Buddy, I haven’t had an address since I left ya.” Charlie replied around the cigar. “I woulda wrote you back, you know.” 

Chris wanted to ask Charlie how he’d been doing, but he already knew. Had already heard- hell, he probably wasn’t exaggerating when he said half the territory was looking for him. He’d been a good shot ever since he was a kid, a skill sharpened by necessity, and when Charlie had gotten his first taste of putting those skills to use for money, well. Chris hadn’t seen much of him since. 

“You could’ve come to visit. I waited for you.” Chris admitted, still sizing up Charlie. There was a scar, mottled and pink that started high on his collarbone and disappeared beneath his shirt. That certainly wasn’t there before. “Two years. I waited.” 

“Oh, c’mon, man” Charlie raised his chin, determined not to be made to feel guilty, “once I finished a job it’s like there were three more that I was already tangled up in.” 

Chris crossed his arms, his warm feelings at seeing Charlie again melting away slightly. Every morning, for months on end, he would wake up convinced that this was the day that Charlie would come back. Eventually word of what Charlie had become since leaving town got back to him, and although he never lost hope, it was becoming more of a well-loved daydream rather than a realistic expectation. He’d eventually moved from the town they once lived in, in a feeble attempt to erase Charlie from his mind. But he always liked to think that Charlie missed him too. 

Now it seemed as though maybe Charlie hadn’t been longing to see him again like Chris had, and there went years of fantasizing about their passionate reunion. “Well you’re in luck, bud, because I really do have a job for you.”

“And I _really am_ retired.” Charlie retorted, puffing on his cigar. “Come back to my place, let’s-”

“No. No, you don’t understand. There’s a gang, or something, that’s threatening my settlement, already burned up some stuff. Killed my neighbor’s farmhand. He was a kid, he wasn’t involved in anything.” Chris gripped onto the wooden railing of the porch, emotion creeping into his voice. He tried to swallow it down. “That’s why I came looking for you. ‘Cause I really don’t know if there’s anyone else out there who could deal with them. Or who might be able to help us.”

Charlie looked at him in surprise. “Who?” he said finally.

“I don’t know, there’s a whole group of them doing this shit. Like a gang or something. Johnny Moore said he thought the guy who shot the kid was somebody called ‘Ghost’ or something like that.” 

“Damn it, Chris,” Charlie spat. “They’re the- I don’t know if I can help you out with this one or not.” 

Chris grabbed him by the collar. “I did not ride a day and a half for you to _not know_ if you can help me out or not. I should think you owe me one.”

Charlie pulled Chris’ fist out from the front of his shirt and sighed. “Listen, these guys aren’t a joke. They’re called the Flyers- this isn’t me just coming in and popping a cap in some rapist’s head. They’re organized, they’ve got skill.” 

“ _You’ve_ got skill.”

“You’re biased.”

“I’ve heard about what you’ve done.” Chris said with a bitterness in his tone.

Charlie’s face softened. “I hope to God you haven’t heard everything.” 

That was unexpected. Not that Chris expected any sort of repentance from Charlie but- he wasn’t sure how to interpret that. The fact that Charlie didn’t want him to know all he’d done. “Listen,” he said, fiddling with the button on his sleeve, trying to move past it, “If you really think this is beyond what you can do, I guess I’ll just-”

“No.” Charlie sighed and put his hat back on. “I’ll do it. I need to get some help, though. I’ll meet you back here in five days.”

Chris frowned hard.

“What?”

“That’s what you said last time.”

Charlie didn’t meet his eyes. “C’mon, man.” He took one last long drag from his cigar and put it out. “I gotta go get some friends, but I swear on my dad’s grave I’ll be back, right here, five days.”

“Alright. I’ll tell the sheriff to make sure there will be lodging for you and- how many others do you think you’ll have with you?” Chris asked, jaw set. 

“Three others.” 

Chris nodded, and jerked his head in the direction of his horse. The afternoon light was beginning to weigh heavy in the air. “I’d better head out if I’m gonna make it to Westcliffe by sundown.” 

There was a moment’s hesitation from Charlie, who opened and shut his mouth as if he had something to say but suddenly thought the better of it. He instead just looked at Chris, his eyes all blue intensity. There was a flash of transparent longing in his face, but the spell was broken as he clapped him on the shoulder and told him to ride safe.

__________

One week and a day later, as the sun was setting, Chris knocked on the door of the sheriff’s office, and at the sound of Torey’s welcome, let himself in, along with Charlie and three others.

He didn’t miss the flash of surprise that went across Torey’s face as they made their way inside.

“Sheriff, this is-”

“Charlie Coyle, at your service.” Charlie finished for him, meeting Torey halfway for a handshake. “And uh, these are my friends.” he said, gesturing towards the three men standing behind him. “This here is Backes,” he said, clapping the tallest on the shoulder. He looked older than the other two, and Chris held in his laughter at how far Torey had to lift his chin to reluctantly look him in the eyes while he shook his hand. “He’s the muscle of this operation.” Next he motioned toward the blonde, whose hair stuck out behind his ears like gold straw. “Danton. He does knives.” Chris said, matter of factly.

“He does _what_ now?”

“You know.” Chris rolled his eyes. “Knives. He throws ‘em.”

Torey nodded slowly and went in for another handshake. “Pleased to meet you.”

Danton just stared back at him with narrowed eyes. 

“Oh yeah sorry, he doesn’t talk.” Chris shrugged. Torey opened his mouth to protest, but Chris soldiered on. “Finally we’ve got my friend Cliffy here. He’s…. Uh. Well.” Chris leaned in towards him. “What do you do again?” 

“Oh, I’m kind of a rogue. I guess,” he said with a sly smile. 

They stood in an awkward silence, waiting for Torey to speak. Danton let himself back outside, and the one he’d called ‘Cliffy’ looked back at Charlie, unsure.

Torey gritted his teeth in an unconvincing smile, nodded, and motioned for Chris to step closer to him. “It’s so nice to meet you all, but could you give me and Mr. Wagner a minute here?”

“Sure thing,” Cliffy answered for all of them, and they made their way out of the front door on creaky floorboards. 

“ _That’s_ Charlie Coyle?” Torey exclaimed the moment his door clicked shut. He leaned back on his desk, and the tough sheriff persona was gone as soon as he was alone with Chris.

“Yeah, what’s your problem?” Chris felt defensive for no reason.

Torey shrugged. “I just thought he would look… different? I mean, I guess he doesn’t really look like how I pictured him.”

“Okay, well that’s really beside the point, you know how difficult it is to find him and-“

“He doesn’t look like somebody who’s killed a man, I guess.” Torey said, almost laughing.

Chris just stood there with his mouth half open. “Okay, _Torey_ , you don’t look like a sheriff and yet here we are.”

“Well, have you ever seen him kill somebody?” Torey said.

Chris knew he thought the answer would be _no_. “Yes, I have.” 

It was Torey’s turn to stand in shocked silence. “Oh. Well, alright. Good, I guess.” He nodded to himself, and then clasped his hands together. “In that case, you show them to where they’ll be staying, and tell ‘em to meet back at the church tomorrow at dawn. We’ve gotta make a plan.”  
.

__________

“There you are!” Charlie exclaimed when Chris stepped back outside, barely a minute or two later. “C’mon and show us where a man can buy a drink around here.”

“Nah,” Chris said, drawing a look of surprise from Backes. It was clear he wasn’t used to people denying Charlie so nonchalantly. “We all gotta be back up at the church tomorrow by dawn, so I gotta get you all to where you’re sleeping.”

“Dawn?” Cliffy asked, fumbling with the straps on his saddlebag, “ _Jee_ -zus, why so early?”

Torey had come outside after Chris and was locking up for the night. “Chris didn’t tell you? As of sundown tonight, we have one day until the Flyers show up, and you better believe they’ll be pissed as all hell.” 

Cliffy swallowed. “Alright then, to the motel it is.”

__________

They mounted their horses and followed Chris out of the few dusty stores that made up their town out towards the farm houses far in the distance. Their ‘motels’ (which Chris may or may not have promised) ended up being people willing to open their homes. Backes and Danton went to the Bergeron’s place, one of the nicer houses, Cliffy went to the Moore’s since they had an open bed now, and Charlie-

“Whose house is this? Looks kinda-”

“Kinda what?” Chris said, trying to force down a smile. “Kinda pretty, if you ask me.” 

“Chriiis,” Charlie sang, pulling up on the reins. “It’s been a while since we’ve shared a bed.”

Chris stole a glance back to where Charlie was swinging off the side of his horse and making very suggestive eyebrows. “Don’t you even start with me, Coyle.” 

Chris led him into his home and didn’t miss the way Charlie sobered as he took in the humble room around him. Neither of them wasted much time pulling off their boots, putting on their sleep clothes, and getting under the covers. He didn’t particularly want to think about what Charlie had said, how it had been a long time since they’d shared a bed. He didn’t want to think about what they were going to do tomorrow, he didn’t want to think about how Charlie was going to leave him almost as soon as they’d reunited. And thankfully, he didn’t have to think, because he was asleep within minutes.

Charlie was warm beside him in the bed, and it was warm in his dream, too. He was walking along a path in the woods in this dream, the trees so thick around him and towering over him that he felt as though he were in a lush green tunnel. He hadn’t been in such a heavily wooded place since he was a little child. Up in front of him he could see flashes of yellow through the dense foliage, and as he walked further towards it, he was able to make out a huge tangle of honeysuckle vines. The flowers were much too thick to exist in real life, but in his dream, they were large and the petals were like slivers of gold satin. 

“Hey,” Charlie called, and as Chris drew closer to the honeysuckle, there was Charlie laying amongst them. “I missed you so much, Chris, come and sit by me.” 

The flowers were so sweet and fragrant that it made his head swim. He sat beside Charlie, who threw his arms around him and embraced him. “I missed you,” he repeated, “I missed you, darlin’.” He was wearing his old red kerchief, and his sky blue shirt that was worn and thin but that Chris loved so much. 

“Missed you too,” Chris finally managed to say, and then the dream-Charlie moved back and put a wet hand on his cheek. “What-?” Chris seized his hand and yanked it away. It was wet with blood. 

He felt a strangled scream get caught in his throat as he tried to scoot away from Charlie, but Charlie started to reach for him with his bloodied hands. Rivulets of red began rolling down his forearms as he strained forwards to try to stop Chris from leaving. “No, no, it’s okay,” he called out, “Come back in the flowers, darlin’, come sit-” but Chris was already gone, tearing through the woods that had grown dark and menacing.

He awoke with a start. 

Charlie was sitting on the edge of the bed facing away from him, already fully clothed. It was still dark outside, and there was a pale glow from a lantern that he must’ve lit. 

“You still talk in your sleep.” he said, carefully neutral, without turning around. “You’d better get up before we miss the meeting.”

Chris slipped out of bed without a word. There’s no telling what he might’ve said after that dream, and so he wasn’t going to ask. Perhaps they could get through this morning without having to have any further conversation. In fact, he was totally overthinking everything. Charlie was here for business, for money, and to think that-

“Hey,” Charlie started, his voice as soft as it had been in the dream. Chris turned, one arm halfway in his vest. “I need you to be with the settlement today, and get them to trust me. But tonight, I want you to ride on out of here.” 

He blinked, incredulous. “Ride on- what? Why?” he snatched up his holster and clipped it on with a snap. “I understand if you think this is going to be-”

“Whoa, whoa,” Charlie got up and held out his hands like he was trying to calm a spooked horse. “What I need you to understand is that this is not the first time Giroux and I have met each other. And he knows quite a bit about me, and about my life, because that is the kind of person he is.” He sighed, eyes distant for a moment, before turning to look back at him. “I’m afraid that once he realizes what I’m doing here, that’ll put a target on your back.” Charlie said the last part slowly.

“Charlie.” Chris started to laugh, he couldn’t help it. “How the fuck would this Giroux guy even know what I look like? And why would he care that you and I know each other?”

Charlie started to pace, opening his cabinet doors, looking around the small farmhouse. “You got any coffee?” 

“No.” That was a lie, they just needed to leave in the next few minutes or else they’d be late. 

“You remember…” he cleared his throat. “You remember how you used to have a picture portrait of yourself? That your uncle had made when you were in Boston?” 

“Yeah, I lost it a few years back. I had one of my parents too. Well I still have the one of my parents. How-”

“Perhaps I stole your picture portrait and kept it in my jacket pocket. And uh. Once, I got into a bit of a situation with the Flyers.” Charlie suddenly became very interested in the landscape painting he had hanging on his wall. “They could’ve just killed me, but I have a lot of information on pretty much everyone around here. Especially their enemies. So they tried to get me to talk. Had me with their group for a while, trying different things to get information. They got pretty creative.” His hand absentmindedly covered the thick scar that went down his chest, and with his shirt half unbuttoned, Chris could see just how cruel and jagged it was. “I eventually got away,” he sighed, as if the memory tired him. “During that time, he got a hold of my picture of you, and, well. Long story short, he knows you mean something to me.” 

It’s what he was waiting to hear- some kind of acknowledgement of their past. Or their present, Chris supposed, as he stood there wishing he could throw himself into Charlie' s arms, kiss him softly like they used to. But there were more pressing things to take care of now. 

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t see my face.” 

Charlie nodded, satisfied.

__________

“Alright,” Torey shouted, waving his hands to signal everyone to take their seats, “C’mon everyone, let’s not waste any time here.”

The clear morning light was just beginning to stream into the church, enough to dimly illuminate the whole space. This time there were no chattering children, no babies being bounced in the back. There were only the strong men and women, stony faced, waiting for instruction. It filled Chris with pride to see his town, the people who had become his family, all gathered and ready to protect their home. He looked in the crowd and saw so many familiar faces. Backes, Danton, and Cliffy were sitting together, waiting for Charlie, but then in the rows behind them were the Bergerons, the Marchands, Johnny Moore, Chara, Noel-

For the first time, Chris started to believe that they might have a chance. 

“This is Charlie Coyle,” Torey motioned for him to stand and join him, and there was an instant tension in the room. If Chris had heard things about who he was, and what he could do, there was no telling what rumors that these people who had never met him had heard and believed. “Wags, you wanna-”

“Yeah, look everyone, I’ve known Charlie a long time, and he’s here to help us out,” he said, raising his voice to be heard throughout the hall. “I trust him with my life.” His words came almost as a surprise to his own self, but they were true. 

“And I would trust Chris with mine,” Charlie continued, taking his place next to Torey in front of the altar to face the crowd. “Which is why I’m here to help.

Looking out at this group, I believe we have a good chance. We just need to be smart. From what I’ve been told, this is textbook Flyers- the crop burnings first, then shooting that kid- which is tough but we have the upper hand because they’re predictable, and I’ve tangled with them before and lived. I’m gonna break it down for you.

Giroux is their leader, and you do not want to fuck with him. He’s skilled, and he’ll catch you off your guard every single time. This guy is unbelievable, he’s manipulative, and he’s nearly the best shot I’ve ever seen. If for some godforsaken reason he tries to talk to you instead of killing you upright, don’t hesitate to pull the trigger. You just can’t play around with this guy. He’s got red hair, red beard, and a black horse so you should be able to see him coming. 

There’s Ghost- who you all unfortunately have already heard of. They call him Ghost for a reason. He’s real sneaky, real quiet little bastard, but once he creeps up on you that’s it. 

Giroux’s got a bunch of young guys, too. Now I don’t know what to tell you ‘bout them. They won’t be thinking twice to pull the trigger on you, so… just keep that in mind.” 

Charlie paused, letting the group take that in. He seemed almost too calm, as if this was something he was very practiced at. Which, Chris reminded himself, he was.

“Let’s make a plan. I was thinking-”

Brad stood, his fist clenched like just hearing about their enemy was enough to make him want to get up and fight right then and there. “Coyle, we gotta be ready for them. We can be standing out at the entrance to town by dawn, guns drawn-”

“No, no. We can’t be waiting for them. They’ll be able to pick us off like that. We’ve got to get them spread out, take them one by one.” 

Chris could tell Brad was less than pleased to be shut down like that, but he didn’t argue. 

“We need to make them believe that you all have packed up and left. When they come into the town to check things out or… do whatever they’re going to do, they’ll be spread out and we’ll be able to take ‘em down.”

“Danton? Do you want to take the north or south entrance?” Charlie asked.

He shrugged.

“So Danton will be at the south entrance making sure no one gets out and no one sneaks in from the other side.”

There was some scattered nodding and hums of agreement throughout the crowd.

“After this meeting, go back to your homes and put out your fires. No more smoke tonight.” He bit back a smile, and Chris knew that Charlie’s plan was coming together in his mind now. He was getting excited. “Okay, okay, and we gotta clear out the horses- anyone that doesn’t want to be riding tomorrow needs to get ‘em to someone’s barn for the day. Who can make sure we have a place for the kids?” A hand went up. “Great. Is there a basement? Okay, yeah, let’s get them down somewhere.” 

They spent the next hour deliberating, scheming, and Charlie led the group beautifully. 

It wasn’t long before it was time for lunch, and since any kind of fire was out of the question for the rest of the day, most everyone stayed on the church grounds and had sandwiches. Chris watched as Sean plopped down a little too close to Danton. Good for him.

Chris found himself sitting down next to Charlie, Torey, and Cliffy, and all three were in very high spirits. 

“How’d you two meet?” Torey asked Chris around a mouthful of sandwich.

Cliffy looked up from where he was cutting a thick slice of ham with wide eyes. “Oh, well I was sitting on my front porch when this man comes up to me and says-”

“Not _you_ Cliffy.” Torey rolled his eyes, but his face still had a fond smile. “I’m talking about Chris and Charlie.” 

“Well I moved out west with my family when I was pretty young and we settled out in South Shore. When I got a little older, I got a job as a farmhand on a pretty large piece of land, and Charlie worked with me.”

Charlie nodded and passed the pitcher of water to Torey. “My folks had the yellow fever and had just passed on, so I left town looking for a job. Met Chris and we hit it off right away, I guess.”

“Well, he was so thin at first I was worried he was going to waste away. He wasn't quite the legend he is now," Chris said with rolled eyes.

Everyone laughed, and Chris saw Torey begin to connect the dots between the two of them. 

“Now tell me how a farmhand become the most notorious sharpshooter this side of the Mississippi, because that’s what I really want to know.” 

Chris swallowed and nodded towards Charlie. He’d really like to hear his side of the story.

“Well, I’d gotten to be a pretty good shot, cause I've always had a good eye, and Chris and I liked to mess around shooting targets in the evenings. And one day there was some trouble, someone come up to rob the family that hired us. Turns out they weren’t just regular robbers, and I ended up killing a wanted man. There was a price on his head, and I quickly realized that I could make myself some money that way.” He picked up a piece of ham off of Cliffy’s plate before continuing. “But it got complicated quick. I got myself into some trouble. Anyway. I had almost managed to get myself out before this job.”

“And we’re grateful for you,” Torey added quickly. “I mean- I’m sure Chris has already told you but- this town is so tight-knit. Chris has only been here for a little while, but he’s so important to us all. Everyone loves him, and well. I won’t tell you what you already know, but he’s just a great guy. Means a lot to me.” His cheeks went rosy at that last admission. 

Chris nearly choked on his water. Of course he loved his town, and deep down he knew they loved him back but he’d never heard anyone say it. 

“I wouldn’t agree to take on the Flyers for just anyone, you know,” Charlie said casually, and with a soft wink in his direction. 

If the Flyers didn’t kill him, Charlie was certainly going to be the death of him.

__________

Night fell quickly, and the anticipation of tomorrow was like a rock in the pit of Chris’ stomach. It didn’t help that they couldn’t light the fireplace, so the whole house was cold and dark and damp.

During the lunch, it was like he’d stepped back in time to the way things were. Charlie’s charismatic smile charmed everyone around him, but his attention was always on Chris. It made him feel warm in ways he didn’t really want to explore when he was about to get back into bed with him. 

Charlie was quiet again tonight, thankfully. He just didn’t know what to say. He didn’t have the words.

As they lay underneath the covers in the chilly bedroom, Chris couldn’t help but shiver. When Charlie’s arms wrapped around his chest and pulled him flush against him, he didn’t resist. He could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against his back, and his breath tickling the back of his neck made him shiver for an entirely different reason. Charlie chuckled and pulled him even closer- the full length of their bodies touching, their ankles crossed over one another.

“Chris,” Charlie whispered.

“Mhmm?” 

He took a moment to respond. “I didn’t know how bad I missed you.”

And what was he supposed to say? It’s okay, Charlie, all is forgiven, these four years of waiting, here I am, just as you left me?

He settled with: “You’d better not get shot tomorrow.”

“Okay, I promise.”

__________

**6 am**

Charlie was waiting for them, sitting tall on his horse- a beautiful bay thoroughbred, his head held high. 

Chris could see it all from his position- peeking through the shutters on the inside of the general store, waiting for the signal. It wasn’t long before he could hear the thundering of hooves in the distance. It was the Flyers, approaching their town from the north entrance as expected. Excellent. 

The group was not far off from where Charlie was stationed when the one leading the group on an ink-black horse gave a signal and approached him solo.

As he drew closer, Chris could see he was how Charlie had described the man called Giroux, red like an Irishman. His mental image of this man was more savage, though, because surely someone who had hurt Charlie like he had would be old and ugly. This was not the case. 

“Charlie Coyle.” said the ginger.

“Claude Giroux.” Charlie said, a perfect parrot of his tone. 

“I’m pretty sure I told you that if I ever laid eyes on you again, I’d put a bullet in your chest before you could take another breath.” 

“And I’m pretty sure that I’m still breathing, so here we are.” 

“Don’t get comfortable.” Giroux leaned to his left and spat. The wad of saliva landed right in front of Charlie’s horse. “Where is everyone?”

“They’ve all packed up and left. I’m the last to head out of town. Figured I’d stay and see if you made good on your word, though.” 

Giroux turned back to the men who were waiting a few paces behind him. “Search the town, make sure everyone’s gone,” he commanded. He trotted his horse up to Charlie, so close that their spurs were touching. Giroux spoke so quietly Chris could barely overhear. “Where’s your friend?”

Charlie didn’t flinch. “I don’t have any friends.”

“You shouldn’t lie to me,” Giroux said, loud enough for the whole town this time, “it makes me angry.” 

“Good thing I’m not lying, then.” 

The Flyers passed him left and right, riding down the old town road, looking for signs of life. When the last one passed Charlie, Chris whipped around.

“Cliffy!” he whispered furiously. “Now!”

At his signal, Cliffy grabbed a rope and yanked as hard as he could. There were others stationed along this rope that ran all the way down the street, and it lifted up fencing between each of the buildings. Chris could see through the shutters that the other side had seen the fences start to lift and had begun setting in place their own. Cliffy ran out of the general store to his next task- lighting the entryway on fire. All of the Flyers would be trapped inside the town.

“Tell your men to leave out of here and I’ll let you all live.” Charlie shouted among the surprised yelps of the Flyers. 

“Tell your mother I said hello,” Giroux said, and drew his gun.

**7.45 am**

There had been almost constant gunfire since the morning, the Flyers desperately trying to get to the townsfolk, but ultimately failing. The night before, Backes and some others had gone through and barricaded all the doors and windows of the stores. Now, they were all hiding on the second floor, able to shoot down from above and snipe a few Flyers.

Charlie was unbelievable. 

Chris had seen him shoot, of course, but he had never seen him like this. When Giroux drew to fire on him earlier that morning, he simply twitched left and then right, and the two bullets didn’t even come close to him. When he pulled out his own pistol, Giroux jerked his horse to get out of the way, and Chris ended up getting his horse in the leg instead. 

You just couldn't hit him. He heard the gun being cocked, he saw the bullets before they reached him, Chris just didn’t know how he did it. He watched him make two headshots in a row, calm as anything. 

Backes was on an absolute rampage as well- reaching up and yanking Flyers off of their horses like it was nothing. He could rip someone apart with his bare hands, but Chris caught him sweet talking one of the horses and lifting one of the fence pieces so it could escape. 

Chris took a few shots, but only when he was sure. He was more concerned about making sure everyone else was alright, sneaking from building to building, and keeping eyes on Charlie. Just to be sure.

**9 am**

The frantic affair was soon becoming a tense shootout. Everyone left had either lost or dismounted from their horse by now, and many of the Flyers had resorted to hiding where they could, trying to take them by surprise. They knew they were outnumbered. 

Chris watched as Danton threw a knife with perfect accuracy from at least twenty-five feet and hit someone in the back of the neck. He died before he hit the ground.

This was somehow much worse than the frantic firing of earlier- the tension in the air was unbearable. Everyone had stopped running, just waiting, waiting for someone else to move first. He didn’t even know how many Flyers were left. He hadn’t seen Giroux in a long while, and come to think of it, he hadn’t seen Backes in a while, either. 

Another gunshot. Another body. It was too far away to see if it was a Flyer or not, but he looked around and saw a flash of a triumphant face- it was Katrina, Brad’s wife. Good.

**9.20 am**

He sat back on his heels behind a barrel, letting down his guard for a moment. It was possible that all the Flyers were either dead, knocked out, or had run out of town. He’d seen two more go down, and the town was as quiet as night. 

Just as he took a deep breath, something hit him hard in the back of the head, and he flopped forward into the dusty ground.

**9.38 am**

When he came to, the muzzle of Giroux’s gun was still burning hot, and now he had it pressed into Chris’ temple, digging into his skin. 

He couldn’t speak, not even when he lifted his head and saw Charlie a few paces in from of him. 

The back of his mind was woozy, he couldn’t quite figure out what was happening, and where everyone else was. His knees dug into the dirt, and his arm was twisted hard behind his back. 

“Ghost found your basement, Coyle,” Giroux spat. His hands were shaking, Chris could feel it. “Found Briere with a knife in his throat, and I just thought to myself,” he was almost choking on his own words, “I just thought maybe you’d like to know what that feels like.”

All Chris could see was Charlie, his mind going a thousand miles an hour behind those eyes. 

“So I told Ghost if he doesn’t hear from me in the next five minutes, he can light that basement up, and I won’t lose a minute of sleep over it. Or I put a bullet in your buddy’s head, and we can call it even and I’ll call him off.”

Even with his pounding head, Giroux’s words washed over him like a bucket of cold ice water. His life for the kids they had hidden in the church basement. There was no question.

Charlie opened his mouth, but Giroux interrupted him before he could get anything out. “If you scream, I shoot him. If you lift your gun, I shoot him. Make your choice, Chris or the kids.” 

Charlie was brown with dirt, and a scratch on his face was crusted with dried blood. He looked shattered. 

“It’s okay, you did good,” Chris said, the words slipping out. “You did real good. You saved us, and now you gotta do it one more time.”

Charlie’s face screwed up like he was going to cry, and it was the most devastating thing he’d seen all day. He wasn’t sure what that said about him. He should probably be saying his prayers instead of thinking about Charlie, but when wasn’t he thinking about Charlie? Giroux’s pistol twisted against his head, cruel, and sense of peace came over him. 

“I’ll say hey to your folks, okay? It’s alright. You gotta let him do it.” 

“I can’t.” Charlie breathed, so very soft. 

Giroux’s nails dug into his arm, and he could hear the smile in his voice. “Me and Mr. Wagner will go tell Ghost what you’ve decided then, and maybe he’d like to watch? What do you think, Charlie?”

“No, no,” he said quickly, “please. Please, Claude.” He took a step closer to Chris, but came up short when Giroux tightened his grip on Chris’ arm and made him wince. “Take me instead, please. He never did anything, you _know_ he never did anything. Now’s your chance,” he said, clearly on the edge of hysterics as he let his pistol drop to the earth with a thud. “You’ve been after me for a while now, so here’s your chance. I won’t-”

“ _Shut up!_ ” Giroux hissed. “You have ten seconds.”

Oh. 

_Ten_

“You know that I love you, right Chris?”

_Nine_

“I know now.”

_Eight_

“I love you, and once I left I was so scared to come back because- 

_Seven_

-I thought that someone would hurt you because of me and-

_Six_

-I’m so sorry-”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I love you too.”

_Five_

“Loved you all this time.”

“I know.”

_Four_

Giroux didn’t say three, because the instant that Chris closed his eyes to prepare himself for his final seconds of life, the grip on his arm was released, and Giroux’s gun slipped to the ground.

There was a knife in his back, and as he collapsed, there was Danton standing behind him. 

“Holy shit.” was all Charlie could say.  
Chris let his eyes close and fell forward into the dirt, overwhelmed and still dizzy. He felt a hand on his shoulder pull him up, another hand on his face, touching him gently.

“You okay? Hey, hey, you’re alright,” Charlie muttered.

He could hear someone shouting, some people running over. The sun was getting so hot, it was a good thing they had the kids down in the cool-

“Charlie, the basement!” 

Charlie stood up and snatched his gun off the ground, “I’ll be back,” and then he sprinted towards the direction of the church.

Danton helped him up, and as he thanked him, he could hear a single gunshot. He had no doubt that it was Charlie who had fired. Just hopefully not in front of the kids.

Torey was there a moment later, and he rolled over Giroux’s body with a kind of strength and rage that Chris had hardly ever seen in him before. Giroux was still breathing, but not for long.

“Why’d you want the land,” Torey shouted, grabbing the sharp end of the blade that protruded out of the front of his chest and twisting, “Tell me. Why’d you want the land.”

Chris watched Giroux’s face go pale with pain. Torey wasn’t holding back on him. “ _Tell me._ ”

“There’s oil on this land,” he wheezed, completely defeated. He looked like he’d do anything for the pain to lessen. “And you stupid farmers wouldn’t even know what to do with it.” 

Torey was crouched over his face, and he didn’t see Giroux reach for his gun. Chris did, though.

It only took one more bullet for it to all be over.

__________

“You think you’re cute.” Chris said, reaching to fix Charlie’s hat, which he had tilted to the side.

“I know you think I’m cute,” he replied, all teeth.

“You’re trouble.” A kiss for trouble.

They were heading out to bid Backes and Cliffy farewell, who were taking both their share and Coyle’s share of the payment onward to their next job. Danton decided to stick around for a little while longer. And Chris?

“Well, someone’s got to get this oil drill going, right?” He’d offered when Torey had told him the news. “You know what they call it- black gold. It’ll be real good for this settlement to have that income. Plus-” he took Chris’ hand. “I’m not going anywhere for awhile.”

They really did live happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> BONUS:
> 
> “Go on, Danny. Go get him.” Chris encouraged, feeling like a proud father.
> 
> Danton slowly walked up to where Sean was rearranging some boxes of nails on a shelf and cleared his throat. 
> 
> “Howdy.”
> 
> __________
> 
> thank you so much for reading.
> 
> this is a little different from the other things ive written but I love the au a lot. I wish I could just project my mental movie onto the page, but alas. 
> 
> thanks to @blindbatalex for being a great beta (king of finding grammar errors) and to @kuralies bc <3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [this town's too small to be mean](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21358867) by [crypt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crypt/pseuds/crypt)




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